Born under the Bleeding Star
by Femmefanficfreak
Summary: The three headed dragon is rising, while honourable men question their loyalty
1. Rhaenys I

Rhaenys

The Dothraki Khal Drogo wed his princess on a humid summer day. Daenerys Targaryen was dressed in a beautiful dress of samite to match her lovely silver hair, a Valyrian trait. Her Khal looked a handsome enough man, with copper coloured skin and black hair done in a magnificent long braid with silver braids that touched his calves, but his was a cruel face and his eyes were as black as onyx.

Viserys had wanted everything to be perfect. This would be the day his reign began, he was fond of saying. Yet to him, Rhaenys had done a great misdeed. Drogo was initially planned to marry her, but Illyrio, the magister from Pentos, had advised against it.

'She does not have the Valyrian beauty, Your Grace. The Dothraki might feel cheated.'

To this Viserys had agreed, but it was not a secret that he wanted his sister for himself.

The Targaryens had been marrying brother to sister for ages, to preserve their blood, but that had not been the case for Rhaenys's father, Prince Rhaegar. The Prince had no sisters to marry so he married a Dornish Princess instead. Rhaenys had the Dornish olive skin and dark hair, but her eyes were hauntingly purple.

The Dothraki are a savage lot, Rhaenys decided, as she saw two men fighting for a dancing whore. The fight lasted two minutes and the winner went ahead and began to mount the nearest whore he could find.

Rhaenys felt especially sorry for Dany, hers was a kind soul and did not deserve this Khal for her husband. She looked so sad, probably thinking of the bedding. In Westeros she had heard, there was a strange bedding custom.

Illyrio Mopatis put a hand on her shoulder, and as a reflex she shrugged it off. Ever since Dorne, she recoiled at the mere touch of a stranger's hand. 'Princess, my friend here, Lord Varys, would like to speak to you privily, if it please you.' He pointed towards a strange, stout man in a heavy brown robe in roughspun, with cracked, mud-caked boots smelling of sweat. His face was hidden by a cowl, and his hands were drawn up into voluminous sleeves.

Rhaenys could only nod, as Illyrio guided her towards his friend. 'My dear princess,' the man said, as he let his hood slide and now she could see his face. His head was shiny with no hair on it, and there was none on his face either. He smiled at her in a mysterious way, as if assessing the value of a prize boar.

'Walk with us', the man said and offered his arm to her. 'I came as soon as I could, when I heard your uncle was plotting to sell you over to the Dothraki.'

'That would have been a disaster,' Illyrio agreed, 'It would have ruined years of planning.'

'Planning for what? Tell me', Rhaenys had never been more puzzled in her entire life.

'Tell me, princess, if you had to wed the Khal today, what would you have done?'

'Won his heart over, and used him to do my bidding.' The answer came oh so quickly to her, she herself had been doing quite a lot of plotting.

'And pray tell me, what would this bidding, in particular, be?' This Lord Varys asked her, his beady eyes searching her face.

Rhaenys thought a bit, she thought of her mother, the Princess Elia of Dorne, raped and murdered by the Mountain, she thought of the Usurper, who had been using dogs to kill them as long as she could remember. She remembered the babe Aegon, his head smashed in. But most of all, she thought of her father, her valiant, noble father, Rhaegar, going off to fight at the Trident.

Be brave, Rhaenys, you were born under the bleeding star, and you shall save the world.

And they told her the plan.

They went back to Dany when it was time for the bride gifts. Ser Jorah Mormont, an exiled Westerosi knight, gave Daenerys a number of books. Books on the history of the known world, tales of knights and maidens. She received clothes, jewellery, ornamented slippers and silver bells for her hair. Viserys gifted Dany with three handmaidens, Irri, Jiqhui and Doreah. Rhaenys knew they had cost him nothing.

Magister Illyrio, for his gifts, brought forth a great cedar chest in bronze. Dany opened it and were the finest silks and damasks of the Free Cities, and on top lay a beautiful dragon egg of stone. The egg was a sight to behold, black as the midnight sea, yet alive with scarlet ripples and waves. The colour was so rich that it looked as if encrusted in jewels.

'Where did you get this?' Dany gasped, as she held the egg in her hand.

'From the Shadow lands, beyond Asshai.' The magister answered. 'The aeons have turned it to stone, yet still it burns bright with its beauty.'

'I shall treasure it always'. Dany said.

When it came to Rhaenys she handed her sweet aunt the box of sheesham.

Inside was a crown, thin and slender, it was made of glass and Quartz, with beautiful black diamonds on the top.

Dany's eyes were filled with tears, while Viserys could not believe his eyes. 'Where did you...whe..how?' The crown had once belonged to queen Rhaella, they had sold it in one of the free cities. How Viserys had cried that night. Dany stood up and lay her arms around Rhaenys. The younger girl was petite, with small breasts and narrow hips, but soon she would grow to be one of the most beautiful women in the known world.

Khal Drogo gave Daenerys a magnificent Silver filly, and soon the wedding had ended.

Lord Varys had offered to take her to Westeros, her true home. The truth was, Rhaenys could remember her home as well as she could remember yestermorn. The dragon skulls in the throneroom, Baelor's sept at a distance from her bedchamber' window, the foul smell of King's Landing. She could remember the day she was born, with a bleeding comet above her. She could remember the way King Aerys the second had scrunched up his nose in distaste when he saw her, for she looked and smelled Dornish. She could remember Darla, the cook's daughter, who had died in her stead at the sack of King's Landing.

I must go home, she realised. And take what is mine, Vengeance, with fire and blood, if need be.


	2. Eddard I

Eddard I

It had been seventeen days since the last Raven from the Spider, the one about his arrival in Pentos. Had the princess declined his offer? He could still remember the day he found her hiding, the poor little thing looked scared to death. It had taken every ounce of his energy to hide the girl from Robert's wrath. Robert would have killed her in a mad fury, she was after all Rhaeghar's true born daughter, and letting her go put his reign and his children's after his death, in danger.

Oh Robert, you sweet old fool, he thought. Going behind his beloved friend's back pained him, but it was vital, what he was going to do. Varys had agreed. Does a eunuch's approval really matter? A good Lord serves the King or does he serve the realm? he asked himself.

Every time he shed blood, he would come back to the godswood. He found solace in the trees, in the old Gods, his and his father's before him. Ned heard someone approaching and saw Cat.

'Catelyn', he said, his voice felt distant and formal, 'Where are the children?'

Cat smiled, 'In the kitchen, arguing about the names for the wolf pups'. She sat down beside him, 'Arya is already in love, Sansa is charmed and gracious, but Rickon is not quite so sure.' Ned wanted to tell her of his plans but he was very well aware of the dangers that would put his beloved in. He looked at his wife and saw that Cat's smile had vanished, she looked grim and on the verge of tears, 'A Raven arrived from King's Landing, my lord. I'm afraid there is no better way to say this, Jon Arryn is dead'.

Oh. Jon Arryn had been more of a father to Ned than his own sire had ever been. When Mad King Aerys had demanded his head Arryn had raised his banners rather than murder the ones he was sworn to protect.

Dark wings, dark words, he thought. 'There is more my lord. King Robert and his family are riding to Winterfell as we speak, if it please my lord'.

No, it did not please my lord. Robert's arrival could wreck his entire plan, but for Cat's sake he forced a smile on his face.

As he went to the courtyard, he saw Robb and Jon practising sword fight. They were now men grown, sweet to look upon and good fighters. Robb was strong and fast while Jon was slender and quick. A dragon has three heads, he thought, so why should I choose one? Because it would be wrong. EdwHe was a northerner, and northerners are known for their naïve ideals. Eddard Stark was born to be his brother's bannersman and hold keeps in his name, he was not born to scheme and plot, and he was not born to rule. There was only one thing his friend must be coming for, the King needs a hand, someone to rule for him while he goes hunting and whoring.

Lost in thought, the Lord of Winterfell failed to notice the footsteps of Maester Luwin as he approached towards the man. In a soft voice, Luwin said what Ned had been waiting to hear for a long time, 'We received a Raven my lord, a Raven from the Master of Whisperers.'

As Ned read the scroll, he heaved a sigh of relief. 'The Bleeding Star rides north. She is in good hands as I have left for King's Landing, lest someone questions the length of my trip to 'Volantis'. Fail, Lord Stark and the Seven Kingdoms shall burn.'


	3. Robb I

Robb

Fear is for the winter, boy, Old Nan had told Robb once. And he had believed her. But that was before Jeyne Poole fell in love with him and began to follow him around Winterfell. Now he was sure that Jeyne scared him more than the prospect of winter.

There has been many girls who had proclaimed their love for Robb, but none had been as adamant as Jeyne.

She was certainly pretty enough, with lovely brown eyes and long brown hair. But you can't love someone who scares you, can you?

Theon, his father's ward wanted him to bed her, just like he once bed the stonemason's daughter. Robb did not like to be reminded of that night, he had made a terrible mistake. Myra had assured him that she had taken moon tea, but it still shamed him.

Jeyne was different, a little girl who's head was filled with stories about knights and damsels. She was also his sister Sansa's closest companion. But the girl had taken to Robb like a pup takes to his master. She even brought him flowers. Many would take this as a compliment, but all Robb saw in her was his sister, which was bad enough when you think about it.

I am a man grown, I will someday rule all of Winterfell and be the Warden of the North. I should not be scared of some girl, Robb thought. And now I have a direwolf, maybe he will scare her away. Grey Wind, Robb had named his direwolf, not a very spectacular name for an animal that many had believed a myth, but it would have to do, for the direwolf would not respond to any other name. A beautiful creature, and deadly, if half the tales were to be believed. His coat was a smoky grey and his eyes were yellow, it was lean but would one day be a large as a small horse.

The deserter had unsettled Robb the most. He had seen many beheadings, but this man had looked half out of his mind. He kept muttering about some little girl he had met, with eyes as blue as frost. Old Nan had told them many such stories, the Others, they were called, and they could raise the dead. 'When the Long Night comes, they will rise, and fight men, for our blood is warm and our flesh tastes like honey to them.' Two of the deserter's companions were dead, one of them a lordilng from the Vale. These were the honourable men of the Watch, who slew their brothers and forfeited their vows, and yet Jon wanted to join them.

Lady Catelyn went on and on about the King's family, and how they must behave in front of them. It was his mother's dream to marry Robb to Princess Myrcella. And Sansa to Crown Prince Joffrey, but he could see that his Lord father disagreed with the match. 'I don't want a Cersei in Winterfell.'

Theon did not stop teasing Robb about it since then. 'They say the Queen is the most beautiful woman in Westeros, her daughter must be a pretty sight to look at.' There was rarely any wisdom in Theon's words, and he was could bed anyone with a woman's privy parts, but Robb had nodded nevertheless. Theon used to believe, when they were younger, that Lady Catelyn would marry him to Sansa and make him part of the Stark family. But those were just childish dreams, and the iron born would never let their heir marry someone who was not from the sea.

'Don't wait till the wedding, bed her the first chance you get,' Theon would say.

'Shut up, Greyjoy,' Robb would reply, tired of the day old jest. But he did feel quite strange, being betrothed to marry someone he had never met.

I am a man grown, I will one day rule all of Winterfell and be the Warden of the North. I should not be scared for some betrothal, especially one with a beautiful princess.

That night, as Robb passed his bedchambers, he heard his parents say his name, and so stood behind the door to listen.

'This is high treason, Ned, I am telling you. Robert hates them, spawn he called the babe's body back in King's Landing. And who knows what the girl is like. She could be tainted, like her grand sire.'

Who was this girl? And what taint were they talking about. And why would his father commit treason, Lord Eddard Stark was known to be an honest and honourable man.

'She is our best chance, The Spider told me that Robert has squandered away all the wealth of the Royal treasury, in favour of tourneys and feasts.

In the west Lord Tywin is becoming more powerful by the day. You cannot expect me to sit by and watch the realm in ruins.'

'Do you even see the danger this puts us in?' His mother whispered, and Robb had to strain his ears to listen. 'The King is coming to Winterfell, and if he finds out, there will be bloodshed.'

'Cat, I have not yet done anything drastic. If the Spider is wrong, we shall the send the girl away and pretend it never happened. He says that she does not even have the look.'

'What of Robb? Will you sacrifice your son's happiness just to fulfill your plan? What if he comes to dislikes the her? And you are no kin to the girl, why should she do as you bid her to?'

Robb could not have been more confused, his father wanted him to marry some girl, that much was clear. But the rest was muddled.

'Robb is a good lad, he'll do his duty as he must. If it comes to all that you say, I am telling you Cat, I would never force the two.'

'But what if...' Lady Catelyn started again but this time his father cut in, in a voice that seemed to say that he was done discussing the matter.

'It is done. The seed is sown, the girl is coming, whether we like it or not. Goodnight, my sweet wife.'

That night, as Robb pondered over everything he had heard, one thing was for certain- The years to come would not be as peaceful as one might hope.


	4. Lyanna I

Disclaimer- I do not own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones. If I did TWOW would be out and the latest season would not have been so crappy, with people time travelling while the Night King's army takes three-four seasons to move a block. Also DJ= Gross Gross Gross

Lyanna I

When the king's party left for Winterfell, Robert Baratheon the First had been a jolly sight, all booming and laughing. Now, after so much of travel, to say that the King was no longer jolly would be a gross understatement. So to pass the time, he began to devise new plans, plans everyone knew would never be put to work.

The princess had been dining with her mother, the queen, when they were informed of her sister's betrothal. The queen was furious, it could be seen, for she she flung her cup of wine at the poor messenger who ducked and ran away, all the while muttering under his breath about the injustice of it all.

'The King would like to inform me that my daughter is being sold away to some north lord's son without my consent!' raged Cersei Lannister, as she flung another cup of wine, this time at the door of the solar Lord Cerwyn had so kindly given her.

'Someone should ask Myrcella about the offer, mayhaps she will like it better than you do,' Lyanna replied.

This seemed to be all that was needed for her mother to find a new target, someone to shower her anger at.

'It should have been you, you always run away unscathed when some misfortune befalls our family. It should have been you.'

It should have been you. As long as Lyanna could remember, Cersei had blamed her for the injustices meted out to her cubs. Alas, Lyanna was no lion, she was a stag. And Cersei never let her forget this.

When her father once hit Joffrey, Cersei had wished it was she. When Tommen fell from his pony and broke his ankle, Cersei had wished it was she. Now that Marcella was been married to a Stark, and Cersei wished it was she.

But it never was she. Some way or another, she always did remain unscathed. Fortune favours the brave, or as it were, the trueborn, Lyanna thought with mirth.

"You don that sly stupid smile while your only sister is betrothed to a northern savage. Do something!' Cersei cried. Thankfully, she was no longer drinking wine and had no cup in her hands.

'I do not understand exactly why you are fretting so much. Last week father was planning an expedition to Sothoryos, or don't you remember? When he wakes up on the morrow, sober, he will have forgotten all about Myrcella.'

Cersei stared at Lyanna a while before sitting down. Thereafter no word was spoken of the wretched betrothal, and they finished their dinner in silence. For that Lyanna was eternally thankful, all this travel leaves one with quite an appetite, and her mother's whining could tire even the most enthusiastic maiden in the realm.

When they were done, her mother kissed her on both cheeks, and slowly left the room.

The next morn, to celebrate their last stop before Winterfell, Lord Cerwyn had invited the King to break his fast at the great hall of Castle Cerwyn. With Winterfell half a day's ride away, the King's happiness seemed to have increased tenfold the usual. As Lyanna sat next to her uncle Tyrion, Cersei was smiling brightly and Lyanna took it as a confirmation that she had indeed been correct about Myrcella's betrothal.

'Good morn, sweet neice. What is it I keep hearing about you and your mother fighting over dinner?' asked her uncle, a smirk playing on his lips.

'Father told mother that he wanted to marry Myrcella to Ned Stark's son.'

'And I take it that she did not take this lightly?' Tyrion was smiling now, as he often did whenever he heard of his beloved sister's tantrums.

'She tossed two cups of good wine, if that is what you mean,' Lyanna replied. Her uncle gave a laugh that attracted the attention of Lord Cerwyn's eldest daughter, Lady Jonelle who looked at him in a way that could only be a morbid curiosity.

'The queen seems to be learning how to drink properly from none other than her Royal husband,' he said quite pointedly, and nodded towards Cersei, who was already drinking so early in the day. Her mother's drinking habits had begun to concern her. For someone who detested Robert for being a drunkard, she was not much better herself.

'Why do want to go to Winterfell uncle? We all know you hate the bloody cold,' she asked, something to change the topic.

Her uncle looked at her hard and long. Alas, his was not a fair face to look upon, his eyes were mismatched, one free and the other black. His forehead jutted out and his hair was mix of pale blonde and black. Yet he was one of the kindest men she knew, and also the smartest. 'When I was your age, no younger than you, I asked my father for permission to travel to Essos. As expected, he refused, 'Do your duty! No man is free to do as he pleases.' Now, years later, I have realised that I might as well see the whole of Westeros while I can. What about you? You could have stayed at King's Landing all the same.'

'I needed a change of air. King's Landing smells like piss and horseshit, while the North smells of pine. Not to mention it is good to be away from toxic men like Littlefinger and Varys. Other than that, same as you. Might as well see the whole of Westeros while I can.'

'What are the two of you talking about?' Joffrey asked from across the table. Joff was handsome enough, but that was all the good that could be said of him. He was one of the few people who took pleasure in hurting others.

'We were talking about the history of the Ironborn, as written by Archmaester Haereg. Is the crown prince interested in the history of the Seastone Chair and Urron Greyiron, the first king of the Iron Islands?' lied she. Lyanna knew her teasing was petty, but it was satisfying to see her brother's face as he tried to comprehend what she had just said.

Joff recovered himself quick enough, and with a sneer of his face said, 'You are turning into quite a sot, sweet sister. This is what happens when you spend so much time with our uncle Imp.' He stood up, and with the Hound on his tail, left the hall in haughty silence.

Lyanna was one of the few women to ride all the way to Winterfell rather than sit it out on a wheelhouse. Wheelhouses were dull, the journey boring and pale when you spend it with your young siblings and your paranoid mother. Inkpot, her mount was called, for its coat was as black as ink. She loved to ride, always had, alongside her uncles and her father's bannermen. They told amusing tales and Ser Barristan the Bold, her sworn shield was never far behind, to protect her if need be.

The north had a harsh beauty, and it reminded her of her grandsire, Lord Tywin. Lyanna missed her grandsire dearly, for she was his favourite, his protege after uncle Jaime became a member of the Kingsguard. The prospect of Winterfell excited her greatly, as much as meeting new people did.

She wondered what the Starks were really like, and if Lady Stark was as beautiful as it was said.


	5. Rhaenys II

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own the ASOIAF novels. I am not GRRM in** **disguise. Yadda yada yadd** **a**

 **And dear Guest, Ned is not a p***y to not want to go against Robert, Bobby is like his BFF and he doesn't like betraying people(he's Ned Stark remember?).**

 **Plus, its like 4 chapters, I am not telling you the entire plot. Some stuff just does not make any sense in the beginning.**

 **NO RANTS PLEASE. ITS MY FIRST FIC SO CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS APPRECIATED.**

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Rhaenys II

They were hours away from Winterfell and her companion Ser Jory Cassel did not want to stay the night at the nearby inn. 'The faster we reach Winterfell, the better,' he kept telling Rhaenys. But Rhaenys was tired, and so they found themselves asking for two rooms from the plump innkeeper. Oberyn had named her Melara when she was sent to Dorne, guised as one of the Sand Snakes, and there he trained her. The red viper trained each of his daughter in fighting. Obara used a spear, Nym had her knives, but she chose a sword like a proper Westerosi knight. Oberyn himself was not as great a fighter with sword as he was with spear or a moonstar, but he taught all he could. At Sunspear she had felt safe, hurt of course after everything, but safe.

Alas, Rhaenys's life was never meant to be easy, and he came to her, poisoning her thoughts, making her angrier by the second. She had once heard her uncle call him poison but she was no more than a little girl, taken in by his charm. All of the anger led to her sending that gift, the damned present which compelled Doran to send her away. And so, Darkstar took her second home from her.

Before leaving for Westeros, Varys had shown her a small parchment, with her uncle's writing on it.

 _Stay at Winterfell. Be safe. Tell no one your true name. Varys will give my gift to you. Use it well and only when required. Learn from the past. Write me if anything goes amiss._

 _We love you._

Oberyn had been angry when she was being sent away but Doran was adamant. What she had done was unforgivable, but what hurt the most was Doran's disappointment writ on his face.

' _That babe did not kill your family. Did you know that she is distant kin to the Targaryens? If she dies, you would be a kinslayer and no one is more accursed in the eyes of gods and men. In the days to come, you must be smarter, cleverer and more careful than before. Vengeance is sweet but only if it is well planned, and meted out to those who well deserve it.'_

The babe had lived but it did not wash away her crimes. I shall not fail you again uncle, she thought.

The gift was beautiful though and exactly the opposite of her uncle's carefulness. A Valyrian steel sword, with a ruby in its pommel. By the look of it, the sword was made especially for a woman warrior. What was Doran thinking, sending her a Valyrian steel sword? This was not prudent, even Rhaenys could certify that. A sword like this one could be spotted from leagues away, and mixing with the commoners would be the most difficult.

Ser Jory and Rhaenys dined in the packed inn, where all anyone seemed to talk about was the King's party.

'I saw 'em with mine own two eyes. There was Knights and all, and a giant wheelhouse too. Tell you what, I saw the Kingslayer and the princess. She was riding a horse, with a sword in her scabbard. Ser Barristan the Bold was beside her, her sworn shield,' a stout man said, with a flask of ale in his hands.

'The Kingslayer! The man killed the Mad King, mad he was but it was Lannister's duty to protect him,' another cried.

'I spit in his face, in his golden hair. I tell you, when Tywin Lannister dies, the queen and her brother shan't be as haughty,' said the plump innkeeper, her hair was the colour of straw, and two of her front were missing.

She looked at her companion, who was eating in haste. Ser Jory had a hooked nose, and his hair was dark and curled. After some time he broke the silence. 'So what will you teach the Stark children?'

Teach? She knew nothing worth teaching. Lord Stark had obviously told him that she would tutor his children. Tutor what though, she had no idea.

Yet her companion kept staring at her, waiting for a reply.

'Teach? Languages. I know High Valyrian and the bastard dialects of Lys, Myr and Braavos.' The products of life on the run. She had lived with the Rogares of Lys, she had worked as help in Myr and as a handmaiden to the Black Pearl in Braavos.

He whistled, this man who had probably never been outside the North. 'Tell you what, I don't want to miss the King's procession. I'd rather leave this place and ride than waste the night here.'

This man was unbelievably stubborn, Rhaenys realised, and he seemed used to having his way. Very well, she also wanted to reach Winterfell quickly.

The walls of the castle were thick and strong and made of graphite by the looks of it. Would these walls withstand an army? Or a dragon? Rhaenys would be their guest, eat their mead and bread but they would never make her their friend. This was all a game to them, the Usurper's dogs but she would show them what being a Targaryen meant. When you dance with dragons, you are bound to get burned alive.

Ser Jory pointed out at two people who stood outside the castle gates. The man had solemn grey eyes and dark hair that fell to his shoulders, his face was long, and it looked like he seldom smiled. Beside him stood a beautiful woman with hair so red they looked like molten copper. Her eyes were blue and they showed that behind her pretty face lied an iron fist. She looked at Rhaenys with distrust, as if waiting to see her do something utmost terrible. The man cleared his throat and said, 'I am Eddard Stark, the lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North. This is my lady wife Lady Catelyn of Riverrun. You must be?'

'Melara, my lord. Melara of Lys,' lies came easily to her. She was sure that Lord and Lady Stark knew about her lineage but she wa not going to say anything in front of the household knight.

'Lady Melara, you must come inside. The sun is rising and the King might come anytime.' To Ser Jory he said,'Tell Vayon Poole to show my lady to her chambers. She must be weary after a tiresome journey.'

Ser Jory bowed his head and was on his way.

'When you are refreshed, my lady, please meet me in my solar. I believe we have loads to talk about,' Lord Eddard looked at her in a way that unsettled her, his eyes that seemed to be able to read her.


	6. Eddard II

Eddard II

The King had finally reached Winterfell. Robert had brought with his royal family and a few bannermen, a trail of hedge Knights, sellswords and camp followers, a giant wheelhouse and a huge baggage train.

There was the Kingslayer, with his hair like beaten gold, the man with the terrible burn must be Sandor Clegane, and the little man was surely the Imp. There was a tall lad with hair like his uncle's, the Crown Prince certainly, Princess Lyanna, named after Ned's sister, Robert's first love, with her pitch black hair and deep blue eyes. But the man who led them was almost a stranger to Ned...until he climbed off his warhorse with a familiar roar and fiercely hugged Ned.

The last time they had met was nine years ago, when the stag and direwolf had fought alongside to crush the revolt of the false King of the Iron Islands. The Robert he remembered had been as comely as ha had been fierce, clean shaven, bright eyed with a mane of black hair. He had towered over lesser men with muscles the way women like them. Now the King had a girth to match his height. He had also grown a coarse beard that hid his sagging double chin, but nothing could hid his Royal belly or the purple bags under his eyes.

'Look at you Ned! You haven't changed at all,' his friend cried out.

I scheme to bring you down, Robert, I have sided with your worst enemies, and yet you say I haven't changed.

The queen and the younger children stepped out of the wheelhouse. The queen was beautiful, with emerald green eyes and golden hair, but Cersei Lannister was known for her black heart, for her arrogance, a common Lannister trait. Ned politely kissed the ring on her hand, while Robert hugged Catelyn like a long lost sister.

When the formalities were done, Robert told him in that booming voice of his, 'Take me to crypts, Ned, I must pay my respects.'

After five and ten years, Robert still missed her. He had never known her, never loved her for who she truly was. He had fallen in love with her pretty face and wanted to make her his own, and almost had, before the White prince came along. After four children and a wife, he still pined for a dead girl. She who had loved someone else. Ned knew that Lyanna never really cared for Robert. She had cried the day Lord Rickard had announced the betrothal. But this was his King now and all he could say was, 'Of course, Your Grace.'

Down in the crypts, they stood in front of her grave in silence. Traditionally, only the King's and Lords of Winterfell were built sculptures, but Ned had long broken that tradition.

Lyanna's statue was pretty, but it did her no justice. Her beauty had been more than looks, it had lied in her unruly nature, in the wildness which she embraced as her own. The way she rode her horse, as if she was a centaur and the way she played with a sword.

'She shouldn't be here, Ned. She should be buried on a hill somewhere, beneath a tree. Not in this cold damp place threatening to collapse,' Robert sighed, as he placed a bouquet of golden roused on her grave.

They are the wrong colour, Ned noticed, Rhaegar had known the right colour. It was blue winter roses she had liked, not the golden ones that never even grew here.

'I killed Rhaegar at the Trident, so why does it feel like it was he won? I swear to you, I would burn the realm down and put every man, woman and child to sword if it brings her back from the grave.'

'The Targaryens are long gone, Robert. There is nothing left to do,' Ned told him, 'Lyanna is dead and so is Rhaegar. The Mad King murdered by Lannister. All we can hope for is a lifetime of peace.'

You liar Ned, you crave war.

'I kill him every night in my sleep. I would slay his little babes again, and gladly. Not every Targaryen is gone, Viserys and Daenerys Stormborn are still alive. Vengeance, Ned, is what I crave. Vengeance.' Robert's eyes shone with malice. Those eyes which had once twinkled with humor.

It is more than your appearance that has changed, my friend. You really are a stranger to me now.

Silently they left the crypts, where his sweet sister lay, at peace and now united with the man she loved.

'You have a daughter, Ned, and I a son. We could once have been brothers by marriage but now finally, we can join our houses. Come to King's Landing with me. I am surrounded by fools and cravers. I need good men by my side, to help me rule.'

'I...I will have to talk to my lady wife wife, if it please you. This means a lot to me, Your Grace.'

Ned was trapped in his own game. If he refused, it would surely anger the King, but if he said yes, then all his careful planning would be nought.

Robert made his way to his bedchambers, leaving Ned alone in his thought.

Varys had met with him two moons ago, telling him of Robert's misrule and Lord Tywin's rising power.

'There is one thing we can do, place the 'dead' princess on the Iron Throne. There are loyalists in many great houses, Lord Stark. The Velaryons are the blood of Old Valyria, and they had grown strong under Targaryen rule. Dorne broods over the death of Princess Elia. Doran has already spoken for his neice. The time is ripe, Prince Viserys means to sell her to the Dothraki. Rhaegar trusted you and so did Lady Lyanna. Can I?'

'And what if I refuse?' he had asked the eunuch.

'Well, my lord, I will take the girl straight to King's Landing and present her in front of our sweet King Robert. You will be charged with treason for hiding a Targaryen, and Rhaenys? Let us just hope that Robert grants her the mercy of a quick death.'

 **Author's note : I hope you all liked that chapter. Please review and favourite if you did(and even if you didn't). Next up is Arya and then maybe Lyanna or Robb.**


	7. Arya I

Arya I

Arya Stark was trapped between the fat prince and his sister. The fat prince Tommen was almost as old as she was but he made no attempt to try to talk to her, although he did ask her to pass a certain dish from time to time. The great hall was extravagantly decorated, with tapestries of the stag, the lion and direwolf. Everywhereat the high dais was dressed in finery, hoping to make an impression on the King's family. Arya's eyes kept darting across the end of the hall, where her brother Jon was sitting and having a great time, by the look of it. Her sister Sansa was seated next to the Crown Prince, who seemed to have entranced her sister. Arya did not like the look of Joffrey, but he did conform to the standards of those princes and gallant knight in Sansa's stupid songs.

Arya was dressed like a proper lady today. She had been scrubbed and cleaned till her skin ached, her hair washed and combed. Her lady mother made her wear a stifling lilac gown that clung to her skin, making her feel uncomfortable and sweaty. Princess Lyanna beside her had at least tried to strike a conversation with her, but she too looked as bored as Arya herself was. The Princess was very pretty, with raven black hair and turquoise eyes, but she ask had a strange hardness to her face, and seemed like someone who did not take kindly to nonsense. Her sibling looked nothing like her, and had obviously taken after their mother, the Queen.

The most interesting person by far was the Queen's younger brother Tyrion, commonly known as the Imp. He was shorter than Bran, and had the ugliest face in the world. Arya had quite never seen anyone like him, as he staggered around the hall, drunk like Robb had once been. Everyone said that the Imp was a vile beast, though none said it to his face, or his sister's, although Arya wondered if the queen would care, she didn't seem to like him much either.

She heard a commotion and saw that Jon had been fighting their uncle Benjen, he left the hall in an angry stride, and Arya could swear she saw tears in his eyes.

What was that all about? Perhaps her brother had had too much to drink.

'This is an excruciatingly dull feast,' said the princess, as she picked at the roast beef. Arya noticed that she had seldom eaten anything, her plate untouched. 'I would rather sit with the household knights, they look like they're having more fun.' Arya could not have agreed more.

'You look bored too,' the princess said as she pointed her fork at Arya. 'Your brother is not very charming, my lady,' Arya replied, and immediately wished she could take back her words. The princess studied her for a moment, and Arya was about to apologise when her solemn face broke into a smile, 'Arya, is it? My brother is quite attached to his roast beef, please forgive him. call me Lyanna, there is no need for formalities.'

Arya decided that she liked this Lyanna, she had presumed that being a princess, she must be one of those little girls like Sansa and Jeyne Poole. But she was different, a nice different.

The princess seemed to have captivated many men at the high dais, across the table, Robb was staring at Lyanna longingly, while Theon beside him grinned like an idiot, which he was.

'Your sister is blushing like a maiden on her wedding day,' Lyanna pointed out to where Sansa was sitting, smiling and batting her eyes at Joffrey.

'Sansa is the stupidest girl I know. She and Jeyne are always giggling and gossiping about Knights and damsels.'

Lyanna smiled at Arya the way Jon sometimes did, and she felt herself warming up to the older girl. Someone finally understands me, she thought.

'And you, I believe, are the embodiment of wisdom. So what does Arya Stark like to do, when her sister is off giggling?'

'Not much,' Arya admitted, 'but one day I am going to learn how to fight, I shall fight in tourneys as a mystery knight and win.' Lyanna grinned at her, and Arya knew what type of grin it was. She didn't believe her, no more than Jon had when she told him of her plans. When Arya was eight, she had gone to Ser Rodrik Cassel and asked him to teach her, he had worn that smile too.

One day I will show them that I meant it, they won't grin like this then.

'When I was your age, I wanted to learn sword fight too. However, I soon realised that these Knights are just men good at knocking each other of a horse with a stick. Swordfighting lost its savour after the realisation. If you're serious though, I could have something arranged for you.'

'You could?'

'Your Lord father has agreed to assume the role of the Hand of the King. You should come to King's Landing, I could ask Ser Barristan Selmy to train you, or mayhaps Ser Jaime could, they are both the finest swords of the day realm.'

'Theon says that Ser Barristan the bold should get renamed as Ser Barristan the old. I would rather learn from someone young.'

'This Theon should go and learn a thing or two. Ser Barristan can slay him while asleep. Though if you insist, I could ask Ser Jaime to teach you instead.'

Arya was sure that she must have looked like a fool, her eyes wide and her smile as wide as King Robert's belly. She would have hugged Lyanna then and there, but she wasn't sure if Lyanna would like it.

I will train and grow up to be a knight, she thought, and everyone who laughs at me will know how serious I am. The feast did not look so dull any more, Somewhere beside her, the prince of Westeros fell asleep with his face landing on the apple pie.

 **Author's Note: This chapter is supposed to be a filler chapter with nothing much to contribute other than a budding Lyanna-Arya friendship.**

 **Something big is going to happen in the next chapter which will be Rhaenys.**


	8. Note

**Ughhh I accidentally deleted the story. Anyways I am not going to continue the fanfic, I'll be writing two different fics- one about Lyanna and the other about Rhaenys. I might change my mind but I don't think I will.**


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